A Moment of Weakness
by TheCarolinaDrama
Summary: After hearing a distress call, Rick takes it upon himself to rescue three siblings who are trapped and wounded. Rated T for violence, gore, drama and possible romances.
1. The Call

Authors Note: I don't own The Walking Dead and the only part of this story I own is the original characters of Harper, Noah and Wyatt. This idea sort of came to me to write about three survivors who are completely separate from Rick and his group. It's more of a drabble in what may be the last moments of their lives and what they are dealing with. I may continue it further depending on what you all think, I hope you like it!

Desperation. It was a heavy and loaded feeling, one that Harper Qynn had not yet fully come to terms with. Up until this point, in the midst of all the chaos, frustration and terror she had never felt so helpless nor defeated. She is certain they will die and she has no idea what to do.

As she sits crouched down beside her brother, she ponders back to how they came to be here now. What crazed turn of events that landed them stranded with no weapons or supplies, all of them battered, beaten and defenseless. She lets out an exasperated sigh as she wipes the sheen of sweat from Noah's forehead, face and neck. On any given day his soft features would be handsome, despite the constant stern gaze he always seemed to have, but not tonight. No. Tonight he's in utter shambles, a crippled heap of misery and pain. His bleedings stopped, the bullet that had torn through his leg has been removed but she fears an infection may have set in already as he mutters incoherently in a sweat and nightmare fueled state of restlessness. It's the first time her big brother has slept in what feels like forever. And for this she is thankful.

Over the past few days he'd been growing weaker from blood loss and lack of food, she reasons that is why he started talking crazy. At first he went on and on about Claire, and how he missed her more than he could bear. This was nothing new, nothing to grown more concerned with or bother to fret about. She knew what the loss of his fiancée had meant to him. She was his world, his love and his life and she was gone; just like everyone else they had known. He grieved, and rightly so, but when he started muttering on about leaving him a gun and a single bullet, she had started to really fear. He would whisper how she wouldn't have to worry, that it would be alright and that she didn't have to fight for him anymore. He told her, his eyes grave and hollow, that she could leave with Wyatt and make a run for it. He says that the two of them can survive, that they were fighters and that they didn't need to be burdened by his current disposition. It was clear to her that he had given up hope, that he had given up the will to live.

But she could not accept this as his fate; if it wasn't for Noah, Harper and Wyatt would have never made it safely out of Nashville. They most certainly would be dead, or worse.

It's been four days, and the three of them have been held up in the town of Gideon, Georgia. She's beginning to feel the hopelessness sink in and slowly consume her. And even though she's trying to fight it for the sake of her family, for the sake of survival, she is beginning to believe that in the end it will overtake them all. She hates herself for feeling this way; she tries to push the doubt from her mind and continue on caring for her family but she can only handle so much. She had made a promise to her brothers and a promise to herself that she would get them out of this alive, no matter what it took. When she spoke this to them, in the back of dirty old pickup coasting down an old dusty road, she had meant every word of it. She didn't want to give up now, no matter how lost she felt or how seemingly impossible their survival seemed. She intended to stay strong for her family, even if beneath her defiant demeanor she still felt broken.

Noah groans beside her and it draws her from dark thoughts. He's muttering again. She swears she hears Claire's name and with that she needs a break. Watching him in such grief, both physical and emotional is taking a toll on her. She stands to leave, bowing down to plant a kiss on his sweaty brow and whispers that she'll be back momentarily. She turns to leave, stepping outside of the deserted office that once belonged to a mechanic; she goes to find her younger sibling. She won't leave Noah alone for long, not in his current condition and she knows that Wyatt could use a break from taking watch on the roof.

She makes her way through the dark and overly crowded garage, trying hard to not trip over engine parts and tool boxes. She can hardly see but she doesn't risk using a light for fear of drawing attention to them. She doesn't have far to go anyway, besides, it would waste what little battery life they had left for their flashlights.

Silently, she climbs a set of stairs that leads to an overhang above the garage, and eventually to the fire escape. It's a ridiculously small auto body shop that could barely fit two cars at once, but it provides the perfect fortress. The only entrance in is the heavy metal garage doors and the front entrance to the office. All of which has been sealed up tight with boards and nails, and in all honesty she's not too concerned about keeping Walkers out.

The window creaks as she pushes it open and she shudders when she's greeted by the cold summer air of a mild Georgian night and with little haste she shimmies up the iron ladder, barely making a sound. Silhouetted in the darkness is an almost meek figure. A slender young male, hardly a day over 19, sits huddled with a scratchy wool blanket around his shoulders. She can see his fit of chestnut brown hair, puckered up in its usual mess, rise as he can hear her footsteps against the graveled rooftop.

He doesn't say a word to acknowledge that he knows she's there, he only smiles and nods his head. She sits beside him and pulls her knees to her chest, their shoulders barely touch and with the smallest contact he looks over. When he looks at her, there's a flash of worry in his pale green eyes and a frown plastered on his lips. But its replaced shortly after with a quiet crack of laughter.

"Have you been cryin'?" He asks bluntly. For a moment she's thrown off guard.

"No." She wipes her face. "It's damn hot in the cupboard of an office. I'm sweatin' like Boss Hog down there." For the most part it's true.

"You ain't getting' soft are ya'? Dad would flip a tit if he saw you cryin like a little baby." She looks at him, eyes squinted and a firm scowl pressed into her face.

"Excuse me?" She sneers. "If I remember correctly, when you were just a kid you cried over eveything! Like when Bambie's mom got shot, you cried like a little girl." Forcefully she nudges him, musing at him with a playful yet mocking grin.

And he grins right back, he grins with that shit eating one he always has. "Fuck. I didn't cry durin' Bambie, I think your confusing childhoods or somethin'."

The fact that he still smiled and laughed and poked fun at her at any chance he could, gave her a small glimmer of hope. She was always in constant marvel at his courage, the way he carried himself with his strong, and not so silent, bravado. A boy so young shouldn't have to witness his family torn apart. He shouldn't have to watch them all run in terror, in fear that they'll be devoured by what was once their friends and family. If it wasn't for her kid brother, Harper didn't know how she could keep her chin up and fight back as hard as she did. Because of him, she found herself growing resilient. Even now.

She looks him over out of the corner of her eye, trying hard not to voice her worry for him. But she must confess, he looks as exhausted as she does. His eyes normally sparkled, always when he laughed or had some mischievous prank planned, even after the end of the world. But now they looked dark and heavy, they sparkle less than ever and she can see his concern. They were so alike, in the sense that they try so desperately to hide their fear from one another, but in this moment they are both so beaten down that they can't keep up the charade any longer.

"Go on and get some rest. I'll take over from here 'til sunrise." She says to him. Wyatt doesn't fight her, even though she makes it sound like an order. He stands up slowly and removes the blanket, gently he wraps it over his sister's shoulders and he leaves her to herself. He knows that Noah is just down below, likely asleep, and that's where he'll bunker down for the rest of the night as well. As he went to lower himself down the ladder, he called for his sisters attention.

"Don't forget to make the call. It's almost midnight." And with that he was gone without another word and she's alone now for the first time all day, curled up into herself on the rooftop staring off into the night.

Reality has already sunk in, and now she's left to wallow in it. Before she knows what she's doing, she hangs her head low onto her knees and she finds herself starting to pray to God. She's never been a holy woman or the praying kind, but she tries it anyway. She prays to God that Noah will make it through the next few days unscathed and infection free. She prays for Wyatt's safety and her own and she starts praying for some miracle, some kind of intervention and even for a savior. She doesn't need some prince charming to come and save her and her family, she just needs someone with a kind heart and humanity left and enough courage to help out a few drifters. She doubts there's such a person left in the world and she snickers to herself at the memory of the last people they turned to for help.

They seemed nice enough at first, said they'd help them out. Turned out they were nothing but liars and thieves who took advantage of a broken family. Six men had held them at gun point, stripped them of all their weapons, food and water and headed off into the sunset. She prayed to God that they got what was coming to them that someone did just the same or that Walkers got to them. She didn't believe in God but she sure did believe in karma.

Down below she can faintly hear the shuffling of walkers, the inhuman gargles and the rusting of bodies and it snaps her from thoughts and her frustration. There's not a lot of them down there, but their enough of a reminder to let her know what pickle they were in. She shakes her head and wipes her eyes. Wyatt was right. She was getting soft. It's a pointless gesture to God; people had been praying since their loved ones got sick, and look what happened to the lot of them. They were dead. All of them. Calling out to God hadn't done jack shit; the only way they were going to get out of there alive was if something had been done.

She started going over a plan in her head, maybe tomorrow if the road was clear she could slip out and find some food and maybe even medical supplies. It was all that she could do really; she could take a crowbar with her for defense. Blunt objects were quiet and effective and she had a mean right hook. Well at least that's Noah had said. There were a few times growing up that he had taken a beating from her.

It was a rough plan at best and Wyatt would pitch a fit, but they had waited long enough for recovery and rescue and it was time to take action. She'd talk to him about it in the morning, until then she'd look over the small town with the hope that maybe it'd be their lucky day and that maybe they could catch a break and a set of headlights would come barreling down the main street and they'd be saved.

She stopped herself from taking that thought any further, there she goes again praying like a damn fool. She looked over at the small table Wyatt had set up, scattered about were bottles of water and candy wrappers, their only flashlight a flare and an old CB radio. It was a scrapped up old radio, they had found it buried amongst old papers and shop rags in the garage. It had a strong signal and still worked just fine. When they found it buried in the office they nearly cried. They were certain it would save them.

They had thought there would be broadcasts, telling survivors to head to safe zones and migrate to places like Atlanta and Fort Benning, but of course they had no luck at all. There were no stations or broadcasts of any kind. It was dead silent except for the constant static and white noise. Yet everyday they turned it on at the beginning of every hour and they sent out their own broadcast in hopes that maybe someone would hear them. They repeated their distress calls every day, and then they waited another hour for a response before they stopped broadcasting. In four days, they hadn't had a single response. But they still tried anyway.

She only had a few minutes before it was midnight and she grabbed the walkie and fiddled with it in her hands as she idly stared at her watch. It was 11:58; only two minutes til midnight. And she waited with patience until the minutes ticked away.

Their S.O.S always started out the same, it seemed like a routine to them already. Tonight it shouldn't have been any different.

"This is Harper Qynn, again." She started. "It's day four and we're still here. Still alive. We are holed up in the town of Gideon, Georgia, it's a podunk little shithole only a few miles south of Macon if y'all know where that is. We've taken shelter in the _Sid's Garage_. The only mechanic shop in this dumb so you can't miss it." She gave a dry laugh, she felt crazy talking into the radio as if someone would hear her. She knew the truth, she knew that no one would hear their plea for help. No one would come, but she still tried.

"There's only three of us now, we're all that's left from our group. My brother, Noah, he's hurt real bad and we can't move him." She almost choked on the words and the memory. "He's not infected, just shot. The walkers ain't much but we've got hardly any food or water left and we've got one gun and a few rounds. It ain't enough to get us all out. " She clutched the walking in her hands, her knuckles almost white. She could hardly keep herself together by now, her green eyes were shut tight and she could feel tears burning at the corner of her eyes again. There was a faint crackle of static between every pause and that's when it really hit her and boy did it hit her hard. She was talking into nothing but dead airwaves, there wasn't anybody alive on the other side. They were going to die there, or at least Noah was. But that was beside the point. They weren't leaving anytime soon. Not the three of them and they weren't going to leave Noah behind to die sick and alone. They could make him comfortable in the next few days that he maybe had left, but that was all they could do for him.

She counted this as her one and only moment of weakness. The one time she would allow herself to break down let out the anguish that was brewing inside of her. She started talking like there was someone on the other end, listening with bated breath. "I'm gonna be honest with y'all, I don't know what to do anymore, I don't even know how help them. If Noah doesn't get any antibiotics he won't last till the end of the week." She paused, she couldn't bear the thought of clutching her brother as he slips in and out of consciousness, pale and sickly. "It's gettin' real difficult to try and keep it all together. I'm tryin' so hard to stay strong for my family, but goddammit it all just seems so hopeless." She raked a hand through the messy curls that feel over her shoulders and into her face in distress. "Please, if there is anyone out there, anyone at all please help us! I'm begging you. I just…I just don't know what to do anymore, I sure as shit know that I don't wanna die!" With that she choked out a weak sob, she wasn't certain how much more she could take.

There it was, that feeling again. Desperation. It sunk into her head and heart like a virus and it crawled in there and made its bed. Dug right in like a tick on the hide of a dog. Through angry sobs she finished the call, ended it just like the always had.

She cleared her throat and tried to hide any evidence that she was crying at all. "We'll call out on the beginning of every hour. We'll call again every day, every hour and we'll wait for a response. If anybody is there just let us know you're alive." She paused and cleared her throat, trying to rid herself of her emotions. "Once again this is Harper Qynn and this is our call for help. I'm signing off. I'll be back in an hour." With that she dropped down the walkie and set it back on the table top.

The town of Gideon was dead silent, say for the low hum of static from the radio, and once again Harper was left to her thoughts. She'd wait until it was 1 before she cast out another broadcast; it was their only hope until morning anyway.

Harper Qynn was raised better than to give in and back down. She was brought up to be a hell raiser, raised to be a fighter. The three of them had never once had it easy in all their life. So she held to the notion that it shouldn't be any different now. She sat in the dead calm of the night and went back to planning what she'd try and make a run for in the morning to occupy her mind and keep her from losing her shit again. Tonight she'd sit on that old roof, completely disregarding the stars and moon and look onto the horizon, to the edge of town with waiting eyes. She'd be damned if they stayed helpless for much longer. This couldn't be how they'd die, not after everything they'd been through.


	2. Two Minutes Till Midnight

Authors Note: So here is the second installment, its pretty slow going and pretty long but I kind of like to take my time in setting up a story. I hope you like it lovies!

I don't own the Walking Dead, but merely the OC's that are my little creations.

Rick Grimes had grown accustomed to the sound of static in the airwaves, a constant and low hum that never seems to dissipate. It's always there. He knew there'd be no emergency broadcasts, that's not what he was listening for, he'd given up that hope a long time ago. Instead, he was listening for something else , for signs of other survivors, for anyone out there still alive and still fighting, and truth to be told, he was listening for some kind of hope. Anything to help save them. Shane had told him he would drive himself bat shit nuts if he kept up this habit of his, but it was all he really had left after the CDC.

Not a single person spoke about what had happened at the CDC to one another, they were all to rattled to even say a word. Rick felt as if it was all his fault and he willingly shouldered the blame for what happened. Lori told him late at night, cuddled in his arms, that he couldn't have known that was what would happen. He planned to get them there for answers, and that is exactly what he did, but they were unprepared for what they found. Jenner was a scientist that was all loose screws and crazed in the head, as Daryl had so bluntly put it, but to Rick he had been a man that had given up hope or any sense to live and he had tried to take all of them with him in the end.

And even though Lori was right and that she had a point, he still felt like it was his fault. That it was his decisions that led them to where they were now, terrified and hopeless.

He looked over to his sleeping wife and son; they looked so peaceful when they weren't awake, when they weren't in a state of perpetual fear. They look happy when they were like this, huddled together in the cab of the truck with a blanket wrapped snug around them tightly, even Lori content in her slumber. This kind of saddens him; he swears he hasn't seen her truly smile in weeks, and he almost forgets what it looks like to see her brown eyes sparkle as she laughs. God, how he misses it, because its only now when she smiles that it never reaches her eyes like it used to, it's almost empty. Hollow, you may even say. But when Rick thinks hard about it, he doesn't remember seeing anyone in their group truly smile either.

Rick tries to forget about it all, as he stares out into the open road. It's the only promising thing they have because its endless, open and its nothing but freedom laced with the fear of the unknown. In a way it's a comfort and Rick will take it just as is, it's all that he can afford to do, all that any of them can do.

He continues to drive, right smack in the middle of caravan with the radio still low and humming, with nothing but static. He still doesn't shut it off for fear that he might miss something.

They drive straight through the night and into the early morning and by late afternoon they have to stop the caravan. Daryl's pickup runs out of gas, his is the first one to go. From their Bronco he can hear Daryl cussing up a storm, and before Rick exits he looks to Lori and gives her a quiet nod. She knows what he means and reaches for the gun in the glove compartment, her eyes scanning the sides of the highway for any signs of the plagued.

"Fuck!" Daryl shouts, slamming the driver's side door shut with in sheer frustration.

Dale is out of the RV, "Now calm down Daryl, there's no reason to pitch a fit. We'll find some cars and syphon some gas like we always do." Dale says, trying to reason. The only problem is they're on a county road, not a highway or an interstate. There's not a car in sight aside from their own caravan and Daryl doesn't hesitate to point out this little problem.

Daryl, in fact, is not calm. "Calm down? There ain't a damn car to syphon from, so how the fuck we suppose' to do that? Huh?"

"There's gotta be a town close to here, right? Can't we just roll on in and get some fuel there?" T-Dog interjects, but everyone looks a little apprehensive. Going to town means there's a chance of walkers, and that's not something they are really willing to leave up to chance. Not right now anyway.

So no one answers immediately, but that doesn't stop Glenn from pulling out a map of the area, one he picked up at their last stop.

"We all knew this would happen eventually to one of us," he starts as he begins to unfold the map; Rick can see a several towns circled in red, and just a few in green. "so I took the liberty to map out a few place en route that might be good for supplies and fuel." The group takes a look over the map, and its Shane who brings up the differences in color.

"Why are some red and some green?"

Glenn looks almost pleased that he asked, and if Rick is right, he even looks a little proud of his handy work. "I factored in town populations, locations and easiest access routes. The ones I've circled in red are higher risk areas, ones with likely more walkers. The ones green, are probably our safest bet." No one was really surprised, this was sort of the kids thing but they were all a little amazed with his thoroughness and planning. "It's no guarantee they'll be safe, with walkers herding and stuff. But Gideon and Culloden are likely the lowest risks. They're close to here and both have a population that was under 300 people."

It doesn't take much thinking, or talking even, but they come to a decision. They'll search the road by foot first, and if within a few miles they don't find a car or any fuel they'll turn back. They can't think to waste fuel on driving any longer unless they absolutely have too, so driving to Culloden is their last resort.

Rick, Shane and Daryl are the only ones to walk the roads. Its safety in numbers and if they run into any trouble on the pavement, they're the most capable to handle it. So the others stay behind, after all they can communicate through the radios in case of any walkers. They tell the others they'll be gone for a few hours at most and with that the head on down the road.

Its late afternoon by the time they start walking and they know it will be near dark by the time they get back so they move quick and quiet. Their pace is fast and they use the scope of the rifle to look out ahead to scope it out and it's only a quarter mile down the road when they finally find something.

It's a beat up old Pontiac Judge that's red and rusted around its edges, it has certainly seen better days. What throws Rick off is the state it's in; the tires are slashed and the windows shattered from the outside in. He notices the traces of blood on the car and the pavement; it's a s mall amount but it's enough for him to notice and enough for him to worry. He feels like a sheriff again as he starts to survey the scene, this car wasn't just abandoned. It was raided.

Shane picks up a small, brass colored piece of metal, its warped and slightly pointed he shows it to Rick and the both nod. They know what it is.

Daryl hardly takes notice because he has one thing on his mind, he is at the gas tank immediately with the hose in hand and he doesn't hesitate.

"There isn't nothin' in that tank. Cars been raided." Shane says and Daryl looks up with that 'fuck you' look in his eyes and before he can even say it, Shane tosses at him a shell casing. Daryl catches it with ease and looks at it between his fingers. He lets out a curse and abandons his cause right then and there, he knows its pointless now.

"Just my fuckin' luck." Is all he says before he continues down the road, cursing and muttering to himself as he goes. Rick and Shane are not far behind him but they're talking in hushed voices, they don't know what to think about it.

"There wouldn't be shell casings if it was just looted for gas and supplies. There were people in that car. People that ain't there no more either."

Shane can't disagree, so he only says. "I know." And that is that.

They search the roads for a few more miles before they call it off. The sky is growing dark and every vehicle they find, whether it be a car or tractor, is bone dry. Daryl isn't pleased, not in the slightest. The two officers just let him fester on the way back, there's no point in trying to make him shut up because they both no there's only one way to do that.

It's almost dark when they get back, and all of camp is waiting anxiously for them to return. Lori and Carl rush to Rick immediately and they embrace quickly, she admits she was worried and Rick reassures her she has nothing to worry about. They explain how they found nothing and that it's settled, tomorrow they will all head out to Gideon. Its 9 miles down the road and they can make with enough fuel in the RV to get them to Culloden if necessary, just in case they don't find what they're looking for in Gideon. So with that they bunker down for the night, all of them in RV just to be safe while two men roam the caravan in shifts. However, no one sleeps well enough to be rested. Not out in the open, they're all too scared to even think about trying to get a goodnights sleep.

The first on shift is Dale and Glenn, after that is Rick and T-Dog, then finally Daryl and Shane. Nothing happens during first watch, there are no walkers or any sort of commotion at all aside from a stray dog that startles everyone from their beds. It was harmless, scrappy little thing just looking for scarps.

The night was surprisingly calm and uneventful, until around 11 O'clock, when the static in Rick's radio starts to clear up and he swears he can hear a voice.

He's standing near his truck when he hears it. It cuts in and out so quick he thinks he's imagining it. But after a few seconds he can make out actual words and even a voice so he starts tinkering with it mindlessly, furiously, trying to hone in on the signal. For a few moments all he can hear is static again and a curse falls from his mouth. Until the static starts to falter and voice cuts through again, clear as day.

"…_if anybody is out there, please help us."_ It's a man's voice, but not so much a man as it is a boy's voice, he's young by the sound of it but not like Carl. Rick feels elation seep into him. He motions for T-Dog silently; he refuses to get the others for something that might have been broadcast months ago. It wasn't uncommon for radio signals to bounce around for a while in space and get lost in some other frequency especially when there wasn't anything to control the signals.

As T-Dog reaches Rick, the radio cuts out again and then back in; he feels like he's playing a game of chase, turning dials and nobs to get a good signal. And finally he does. "…_this is Wyatt Fowler, we'll repeat this message in an hour like we've done for a few days now. I hope y'all are out there somewhere, 'cause we could really use yer help."_ And the radio silence, the voice of a Wyatt Fowler was replaced by static again and Rick can't believe what he has just heard. T-Dog looks to him, his eyes wide with shock.

"We have to tell the others." And even Rick admits, even if it's just a lost signal, the others need to hear it. T-Dog hardly even waits for an approval before he is bolting to the RV excitedly to stir the others to tell them what they've heard.

Within minutes there's a commotion from the RV and everyone is up in a hurry, scurrying from the camper. Shane, Lori, Andrea, Dale, Glenn and Daryl are rushing towards him and the radio, all of their faces ranging in emotion from excitement to confusion and he thinks there's even a little bit of fear mixed in there somewhere too. But all of them are curious non-the-less and Dale is the first to speak.

"T-Dog says you heard a transmission?"

Rick doesn't know what to say and everyone is looking at him waiting for answers, he's still not even sure for himself what had just occurred, so he just raises his hand to get everyone to calm down. "I'm not sure exactly what we heard, but it was definitely a transmission of some sorts."

"Was it from the air force base?" Shane inquires a spark in his eyes, Andrea looks just the same as him.

"Nah man, that was some kid, not some soldier. It was a distress call, right Rick?" T-Dog states, confidently at first but then he begins to question what he heard for himself. Everyone looks at one another, all mumbling about the possibilities of what this call could mean for them. Rick still has no idea what to say and everyone is looking at him again, waiting.

Daryl was the only one who didn't look at him for answers. His face read something else entirely, something Rick couldn't quite place.

"If it was just some kid then it was others like us, other survivors?" Glenn looks hopeful as he asks Rick.

All he does is shake his head. "We don't know for sure, but what we do know is there may be another transmission at midnight. All we can do is wait till then to see if it repeats, to see if we can contact whoever is making that call." That wasn't exactly the answer they were looking for, but what else could he give them.

Everyone agreed. So they waited patiently for the minutes to tick away. Most of the group stayed close to the truck, fidgeting around and pacing back and forth in anticipation. The only ones who are calm are Shane, Rick, Dale and Daryl, they are all quiet and patient.

When it's almost midnight, everyone is standing there waiting for the static to dissipate again. Andrea looks to Dale, and almost meekly she asks him, "What's the time?"

He looks to his watch, which they know is always precise and he replies. "It's 11:58. Two minutes till midnight." And he sighs; his heart is racing so hard he think it might rupture in his chest.

A for two minutes straight they listen to nothing but silence; it so damn quiet if someone dropped a pin they'd all jump in fright at the sound of it.

And as if it was like clockwork when its midnight on the nose the sound of static dies out and a voice breaks through the radio and it's something that they don't expect. Rick is even more jubilant now than he was before because the voice doesn't belong to a boy, this time it's the voice of a woman and everyone is leaning in close. They all listen with bated breath.

"_This is Harper Qynn, again." _She started._ "It's day four and we're still here. Still alive. We are holed up in the town of Gideon, Georgia, it's a podunk little shithole only a few miles south of Macon if y'all know where that is. We've taken shelter in the Sid's Garage. The only mechanic shop in this dump so you can't miss it." _Everyone is in a silent stupor, they can't believe what they are hearing. This message is coming from 9 miles down the road, they're so close they could run there right now if they tried hard enough. There were smiles on everyone's faces, everyone except for Daryl who is still distant from the group and as reserved as ever.

The broadcast continues, and no one dares to move in fear that they might mess with the signal or jam the transmission. _"There's only three of us now, we're all that's left from our group. My brother, Noah, he's hurt real bad and we can't move him. He's not infected, just shot. The walkers ain't much but we've got hardly any food or water left and we've got one gun and a few rounds. It ain't enough to get us all out. "_ There exuberance fades when this woman, this Harper Qynn begins to choke out sobs and she sounds as desperate as they feel.

"_I'm gonna be honest with y'all, I don't know what to do anymore, I don't even know how help them. If Noah doesn't get any antibiotics he won't last till the end of the week. It's gettin' real difficult to try and keep it all together. I'm tryin' so hard to stay strong for my family, but goddammit it all just seems so hopeless." _

Something in the way she says this triggers something in Daryl, and he's up and off the bed of his truck quickly and he begins to walk towards the group. He can hear her trying to hold it together, but she's losing some battle with herself and she's sobbing now.

"_Please, if there is anyone out there, anyone at all please help us! I'm begging you. I just…I just don't know what to do anymore, I sure as shit know that I don't wanna die!"_

When the call cuts out they're sure it's the end of it, but after what feels like years her voice breaks through again. This time sounding stronger than before.

"_We'll call out on the beginning of every hour. We'll call again every day, every hour and we'll wait for a response. If anybody is there just let us know you're alive._ _Once again this is Harper Qynn and this is our call for help. I'm signing off. I'll be back in an hour."_

And that was it. That was the end of it. They try to hail them through the radio but there's no response. Maybe it's the bandwidth or maybe the radio is disconnected on the other end, they can't be too sure. But they try for 15 minutes before they give up.

No one speaks at first, they all just stood there ghostly white with puzzling looks on their face soaking it all in. There were three survivors out there, and just like Rick and the others, they were in trouble. Without their knowing, they had put Rick in a compromising position.

"They're right over in Gideon. Not even 9 miles from here." He won't make the call for them, but he sure as hell is baiting them. Lori looks at him in disbelief, she doesn't even know what to think so all she says is: "You're not seriously considering this? Are you Rick?"

They debate for what seems like hours and no one has come to a final decision. Shane argues that it could be a trap, masterfully crafted to get at their weapons, supplies and ammo. Dale argues back with, "What supplies and ammo?" because what they have is limited as is and their food supply isn't worth killing for.

Rick's only appeal to the group is with empathy. "You heard that call, you heard that women and how desperate she sounded. You can't tell me after hearing her you'd just leave that family out there to die?" Glenn backs him up with a simple "He's right."

But it doesn't help the cause because almost everyone is still on the fence for the most part. There's too many ifs and maybe and hesitations to make the tough call.

Their minds aren't made up until Daryl Dixon picks up his cross bow and slings it over his shoulder and he looks at all of them. "We ain't got a choice." They are shocked to hear the words come from the one person who never gives a damn about anything but him and his brother. "Gideon's close and they got supplies in that town that we need, don't make any sense if we went in and didn't even try to help 'em. Don't seem right to just leave 'em high and dry like that." He looks at Rick and T-Dog and they know full well what he's getting at and they understand.

It's agreed after that. Rick, T-Dog, Glenn and Daryl will make the trip into Gideon and that they'll leave in the late morning after they are all rested up.

Rick still can't wrap his head around what has happened, or why Daryl Dixon did what he did. Hell, not even Daryl full understood why. Come morning, he'd be riding into town to save some family and he didn't even know, other than say for a name. For some ungodly reason he had felt compelled or like he'd been sucker punched in some fight and was knocked right on his ass. He felt like he didn't have a choice in the matter.


End file.
